Not This Time
by DarkPoltergeist
Summary: Mulder angst - pre-revival.


_AN: Mulder angst – pre revival_

 **Not This Time**

 **By Dark Poltergeist**

The call was short and to the point, it should have been all matter of ordinary but given the state of his relationship with Scully, it was not, nothing passed for normal anymore. It seemed that when she had walked out of their house six months ago she had left some documents behind that she now needed, and she had mistakenly picked up some of his documents instead. So in her best professional voice she asked if she could come by their once shared house and get them.

He had answered in his best neutral voice that he was in for the evening so that would be fine, whenever she wanted to stop by. Three hours later and it was 7pm and he was passing the time staring at the clock, waiting for the sound of her car pulling up in the driveway. There were things he could be doing, things he probably should be doing, things that Scully would tell him were more healthy and productive than waiting for her to show up. He both hungered for these brief moments of time with her and dreaded them, feeling glimmers of happiness while she was there no matter what her mood, and the darkness of depression when she left.

There were times when he truly hated her for the fact that she was willing, more than willing it seemed to move on with her life without him. A small corner of his mind acknowledged that yes, he was a bit obsessive with things at times, and that he probably had neglected her a bit over the last couple of years of their relationship. He was truly sorry for that and apologized countless times but it didn't seem to do any good; Scully was resolute in her decision to not come home. Not come back to him.

She was unwavering until one night after three months apart she called and said she needed to come back to the house and pick up something, it was something inane, and he didn't even remember what it was, a now. Inexplicably he found himself in bed with her, their desperate need for each other driving them both to a bout of rough sex that they hadn't shared for some time. When he woke up, she was gone. No note, no voicemail, nothing.

Then there was a minor legal matter to settle a month ago at the local courthouse. He politely offered her coffee and to his surprise she accepted his offer and followed him into the house. Once again they found themselves in the throes of passion on the kitchen floor. If they hadn't broken up he would have been amused by the location of their lovemaking. But as before she cleaned up, thanked him for the coffee and left. The pieces of his heart that were still somehow intact broke just a little more.

He hadn't seen her in six weeks and now she was stopping by again. He didn't think he could stand this new pattern they had developed for much longer, it was killing him on the inside.

He started when he heard a knock on the door, and realized that while he was deep in thought another hour had slipped by. No matter. Hopefully she the visit would be short so he could get back to putting another band aid on his constantly festering emotional wounds.

"Come in," he yelled, refusing to do her the courtesy of getting off the couch. He picked up the book off of the coffee table and held it up in front of him.

The door opened, and he heard her set down her purse and keys on the entry table she had picked out. Then she hung up her jacket on the right peg because it was the shortest one on the coat rack mounted on the wall. Then he heard her slip off her shoes, and he sighed. That meant it wasn't going to be a short conversation or whatever she had in mind. This routine was so painstakingly familiar that it made him ache inside, and he had to swallow back the bitterness that it inspired. Instead he drew a deep breath and calmed himself. He gave her a casual glance as she breezed into the room.

"Hi," he said. As always, Dana Scully was stunning, dressed in a very professional dark blue skirt with a silk blouse that matched the color of her eyes. Her hair, now strawberry blonde and still longer than when they worked the X-Files was perfect. He couldn't meet her eyes until he had some sort of grip on his emotions. It was always like this and though he knew that she was aware their break up was hard on him, he didn't think that she truly knew the depth of his misery. And he was trying his damnedest not to show her.

"Mulder," she nodded at him and he saw the amusement in her eyes as she regarded the book he was reading. "Picking up a little light reading?"

He looked at the book cover and realized that he had somehow picked up one of her medical books. He scowled and set it aside. "The papers are over there on the desk," he nodded at it.

"Okay." She dropped the papers he didn't realize she was holding on the corner of the desk, and picked up the ones she had come after. Then she regarded him with a concerned expression. "How are you?"

"How do you think I am?"

She studied him and then offered a small grimace. "It doesn't sound like very well."

"How astute of you."

"You seem sharper around the edges than normal tonight."

"How about that?" He crossed his arms in front of him.

Scully gave him a brief look and wandered out of the room and into the kitchen, where he heard her looking through the refrigerator. After a couple of minutes she returned with a partial bottle of wine and two wine glasses. She filled both and offered one to Mulder. He set it back on the desk and pushed it away from him. With a shrug she sat down on the couch, and waited for him to join her. When he didn't she looked up at him and patted the couch beside her.

"Come on, Mulder. Sit down. Tell me what's wrong."

"So you're my psychologist now?" He snorted. "Oh, that's right, you diagnosed me as depressed even though you're a medical doctor and I have the degree in Psychology."

She pursed her lips and he could tell he was finally getting to her. "I was hoping to have a civil conversation with you but I can see that isn't going to happen." She drained her glass a bit more rapidly than Mulder would have expected and then stood up so suddenly that she swayed on her feet.

Without thought, he was by her side, holding her upright, and it felt so damn natural that he could have cried. "You all right?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." She turned within the circle of his arms and stared into his troubled eyes. Then she pulled his head down and kissed him, gently, as if she was trying to not scare him off. He returned the kisses until she tried to open her mouth to his.

It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he kept his mouth closed and disengaged himself from her grasp, stepping away from her touch until there was several feet of space between them. Her eyes were filled with questions and disappointment.

"No," he whispered

"Mulder, I don't understand. I thought you liked us being…together," she slowly inclined her head to where she knew their bedroom was.

Mulder was a mess, the emotions running through him, draining him. He wanted her, but he always wanted her, but he couldn't have her. Not now. Not like this. He screwed up his courage to say what was on his mind because he couldn't continue on with the new rules she had set up.

"No, Scully. I'm not going to be a quick fuck for you when you're feeling lonely or nostalgic, maybe remembering what we had once." He swallowed, feeling his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he tried to control his emotions. "You mean too much to me and I refuse to start thinking of you that way. Apparently you don't have the same perspective."

"I don't think of you like that!"

"Then how do you think of me? Because these days it sure seems that's all I am to you. A good lay when you need one."

"Mulder! How dare you say that?"

"How dare you use me like this?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus, Scully! You fucking tore out my heart when you walked out on me! And every damn time that you come back and fuck me you break up those small pieces of my heart that I still have left." He expelled a breath and stared at the ceiling. "Both times you've been here and we've been intimate, I held my breath, hoping that you would stay, hoping that you would finally come home. And both times you walked out like it meant nothing to you." He slammed his hand on the desk. "Damnit! Maybe it doesn't." He gulped down the contents of the wine glass and slammed it against the desk, shattering it. "Fuck!"

Scully cautiously approached him as he gave up his anger and sank down on the couch, trying to bury his head in his hands.

"Let me see," she said, shifting into doctor mode.

"Whatever," he mumbled, not looking at her.

She made a noise of unhappiness, and relinquished his hand, getting off the couch and disappearing out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with a first aid kit complete with tweezers. She pulled his hand to her again and began to pull the glass out of it, ignoring his small yips of pain. When she was done, she put the antiseptic on it and put a bandage across the jagged cut that was still bleeding although it had slowed.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said.

"There were a lot of things I shouldn't have done," he muttered.

A small silence fell between them.

"Am I one of your regrets?" Scully finally asked in a small voice.

He looked up at that and saw that her face was suffused with sadness.

"I could never regret you, no matter how hard I try." He sighed. "And I'm so tired of trying."

"Then don't," she placed a hand on his arm. "Let me stay with you."

"Will you be gone in the morning?" The sorrow in his expression broke Scully's heart, but she had to tell him the truth.

"Yeah, I will." She searched for words but couldn't find anything adequate. "I'm not ready to come back."

"Of course. Why would you stay when you've got what you've wanted?"

"It isn't like that."

"Isn't it? You got tired of trying so you ran."

"And you didn't try hard enough! Damn you, Mulder, this isn't all my fault."

There was a long depressing silence as they studied one another.

"Maybe not, but giving up is your fault," he whispered.

"You gave up on us long before I did!"

"On us? No."

"Yes, damn you! You started following things again, letting the paranormal take over your life. It's what I was afraid of. We finally had a normal life and you…

"I what, Scully? I what? I wanted to do what I was born to do? Wanted to return to the thing that makes me alive?" He took a deep breath and tried to get his anger under control. "How would you feel if I told you that in order for us to be happy I needed you to give up being a doctor?"

"Mulder," she laughed, "that's ridiculous."

"And yet, you asked that of me. And I did it. For you. I thought it would make you happy. So I tried to have this fucking normal life that you wanted. And it still wasn't enough." He paused, searching her face. "Dana, what the hell do you want?"

"I want to be happy!" She clenched her fists at her side.

"What make you happy now?"

"I don't know! Mulder, I just don't know…" she began to cry and as always, he was drawn to her, and encompassed her within his arms as he tried to soothe her tears.

He held her tight as she sobbed against him, clutching him as if her life depended on it. At last she was reduced to quiet sobs and he led her over to the couch and pulled her to him, and she settled onto his lap. He held her tenderly and allowed her to recover herself, silently stroking her hair. She pulled back from him and looked into his face, her eyes vulnerable, blue eyes still bright with tears. She leaned into him and kissed him, he remained passive.

"I love you," she said.

"And I love you. I am still in love with you." His hazel eyes were quiet as he waited for her reply.

"And I'm still in love with you," he repeated.

Scully made an attempt as speech, but shook her head. And then more insistently pressed her lips against Mulder's, trying to evoke some sort of response from him. He made a noise and she pressed her hand against his lap, knowing that she was starting to get him aroused.

"Scully, no." He dumped her off his lap and scrambled off the couch.

"Mulder!"

"No, we can't do this. Not like this."

"Then how?" Exasperated, she sank onto the couch, watching him with a melancholy expression.

"When you love me again, then we can."

"Mulder, I love you."

"Then why aren't you here?"

Scully's heart was filling with dread, he seemed so damned somber.

"And you can't even tell me you're in love with me, so it must mean that you no longer are." He gave a bitter laugh. "See, all those years of profiling paid off."

"Mulder, please. Don't do this."

"Me? You've already done it. You're the one that walked out of the house, our house, and left me behind."

"Let's go upstairs, that always makes us feel better."

"It always makes you feel better. Every fucking time you come here and have sex with me, because that's all it really is now, isn't it? My heart is broken in so many ways that I can't even begin to piece it back together. And every time you come back you tear those small pieces into even smaller pieces. So small that I can't even find them anymore. And you leave, happy because you got what you wanted and had a few hours of pretend, of remembering what was and you are now empowered to go and face the world that you chose." The sob caught in his throat despite his effort to control it. "And I try my damnedest…to put myself back together…again…so that I can face another day…without you in my life." He let his head drop and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, Mulder," Scully was crying now, she knew he had been very hurt but hadn't truly understood the depth of his pain.

"I can't even begin to heal when you keep reopening the wound. So unless you plan to stay…here…in our home…you need to go."

"Mulder, please let me stay."

"Are you coming home?" He raised his head and regarded her through bleary eyes.

"No," she whispered through her tears.

"No, not this time. Not until you are home to stay."

Scully sighed and nodded. Her face a study in misery, she got up from the couch and walked past Mulder.

After she left the room he fell to his knees. He heard her slip on her shoes, remove her jacket from the right peg of the coat rack because it was the shortest one mounted on the wall, pick up her purse and keys, and shut the door behind her as she left.

He wondered how someone could feel so hollow and yet filled so completely with pain at the same time? He slid to the floor and sprawled out on it, not caring that it was cold as he listened to the endless ticking of the clock, the ticking that reminded him that without her he no longer lived, he only existed.

He cried as he heard her car start and then the fading of the engine as it sped away, and stayed there until he had exhausted his tears. Then, uncaring, he fell asleep on the hard, cold floor because nothing mattered anymore.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

 _AN: Apparently I was feeling VERY angsty when I wrote this, hope you like it. Please read and review. Thanks._


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